She's Got The Fire & He Walks Through It
by 90sDeathGrip
Summary: Post Graduation. Abrupt and out of the blue, Shego's calls number less than once a week. They most often come to Ron like nightmares, finding him deep in the night, long after he's gone to bed. Ron x Shego, possibly Kim x Drakken
1. Day In Day Out

War is hell, peace might be worse.

Ron stares across the table, eyes like planets. This moment has been bearing down on him for months and it feels like he's played it out a thousand times in his head when it's late and everybody is asleep. Right now though, she's glaring at him and he can't even stitch together two syllables. His throat feels dry and his tongue sticks to the top of his mouth, even once her eyes drift in another direction.

He procrastinates by focusing his attention on a troop of agents that marches past their table. Will Du is at the core of the group, likely propelling them all along through his delusions of grandeur alone, if what Ron's hearing is any indication. He snorts when the agent says something particularly audacious. This is clearly a mistake. Shego's eyes dart back to him, intense as ever. Then in a low voice, she speaks. "You don't have to stay here, buffoon. This is more your scene than mine. Go find one of your do-gooder friends."

Ron's eyes slink away from the agents. He just watches Shego, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. What he's doing, lingering around when she's given him a clear escape route, it's dangerous business, so he treads carefully when he speaks. "I would rather wait here for Kim. Even if – uh, even if there is a minor risk of you barbequing me."

Shego's eyes narrow and the delicate wrinkle of confusion appears between her eyebrows is disarmingly cute. Ron had expected to be ducking a flare of green plasma by now, so this interaction is somewhat unexpected. To make his intentions slightly less obtuse for her, he clarifies. "You've met Will Du, right?" Shego nods, eyes narrowing further still. "Look around us, Global Justice sponsored events are basically Du family reunions. Why would I want to deal with _that_?"

The last part is said in a hushed tone, so none of the people milling around will hear it. Shego's lips crease, a smile ghosting across them. It's unexpectedly gratifying that she's heard him and is amused by the comment. He's floated a similar joke between Kim and himself in the past. She'd been markedly less amused.

While Ron is wading around in his own thoughts, the mirth on Shego's expression vanishes. "I wish Doctor D and the Princess would hurry up and get back here." She announces, folding her arms with great annoyance. They fall across her chest, heavy like concrete. Ron takes this to mean that in spite of his wit, Shego is still fairly underwhelmed by her current predicament.

"Yeah, I mean who'd want to meet the president. _Lame_." Ron says, bold in a way that he's never been when addressing Shego. Maybe it's that the alternative is initiating a conversation with one of the Will Du facsimiles surrounding them, but it might also be the minute smirk her lips had toyed with.

"I'd want to meet the president." Shego grumbles, smothering another of those little smiles. Ron gets the impression that she's being contrary just for the sake of it. "But no, apparently it was all the work of Kim Possible that saved the world." She drawls, waving a hand in the air carelessly.

Nothing a slightly bitter timber of her voice, and having felt some of that particular emotion himself, Ron nods along. "Drakken's shrieking was especially helpful."

"Drew, these days." Shego corrects absently. "He doesn't think Drakken is especially marketable."

Ron snorts at that, Shego laughs. Whether it's the ungraceful noise he's just made, or that Drakken is thinking in terms of marketing and public profiles, he can't say for sure. After that, they sit in companionable silence. Kim and Dra – Drew turn up shortly after, the President's stamp of approval glowing brightly against their skin. Shego's disposition darkens once more. Maybe his continence does as well. Kim asks if he's okay four times before he puts the right combination of words together and she's satisfied enough to stop asking.

* * *

After that night, things change drastically.

Ron's phone starts to dance with increasing regularity, generally late into the night. Far from getting used to it, Ron thinks each passing call is stressing him out even further. By the end of the month, Ron thinks that his heart might work up enough velocity to crack a rib.

Nevertheless, he forces himself to pick up the phone. Mostly the voice at the other end of the line is simply Kim or somebody else from High School. Occasionally the voice at the other end of the line belongs to Drew Lipsky. Those calls are often in regards to Ron's plans for the coming Friday and whether or not he'd like to go bowling. Sometimes the formerly mad doctor makes additional enquiries as to Kim's availabilities. It's after those calls that Ron finds himself picking up the receiver again and calling his best friend to invite her. Apparently Drew's rehabilitation has only extended as far as being able to remember Ron's name and number. After dozens of thrashings and numerous arrests at her hands, Ron thinks Drew – and it's still bizarre calling him that – is a little bit terrified of calling Kim.

Terror stemming from females and phones, Ron can empathize with that. Drew and himself probably share the same jackhammer heartbeat sometimes, the difference being Drew fears making a call, Ron fears the one he's yet to receive. Drew fears calling Kim and Ron lives with a constant anxiety that Shego is going to call him.

Abrupt and out of the blue, Shego's calls number less than once a week. They most often come to Ron like nightmares, finding him deep in the night, long after he's gone to bed. Until recently, his overly amicable break up with Kim had been the most confounding issue in Ron's life. Lately those warring emotions of relief and disappointment have become secondary to Shego suddenly insinuating herself into his life.

Ron can vividly recall the first time_ she_ had called him. It had been just after 1am when the phone had started. He'd just remained in his bed, limbs stuck to his sides. Assuming it had just been Drew wanting tips at beating Initial Imagination VII again, he'd sealed his eyes shut and just tried to wait out the call. That assumption had bled away when the phone had continued it's tinny chiming through three attempts by his phone to send the caller to voice message. Drew, if it had been him, would have left an overly long one. This caller, not so much.

With great reluctance, Ron had heaved his arm up, pushed the covers away, and groggily answered. When Shego's voice had filtered through the speaker, Ron's eyebrows had threatened to fly into orbit.

"Hey there, Stoppable." Shego had drawled, laughing shortly at something amongst the dull roar surrounding her voice. Untethered by her usual misplaced anger and free of her usual malice, Ron had thought the sound to be quite a pretty one.

The rest of their conversation had been easy. Her words had been somewhat slurred together, but the former villainess had been so disarmingly chipper that Ron hadn't thought to ask why. When this Shego – the one not surging with irritation at his breathing being too loud – had asked him for a ride, he'd already been thoughtlessly tossing a coat on. She'd even said _please _at the end of it all.

The whole thing had only started to seem strange when he'd sat in the driver's seat of his car.

Since that first night, Shego has called nine times. He's given her nine rides to her apartment. They're yet to really acknowledge each other in person, but Ron's noticed their calls begin to stretch longer with each passing time. Shego starts to wander through her sentences, rather than cutting to the point. His dopey heart begins to beat with anticipation rather than apprehension, which might be the most confusing thing of all.

The morning after the ninth call, this one longer than the first, second and third calls combined, Ron calls in reinforcements.

"Drew, it's Ron. I really, really need your help." Ron blurts out, several tons of pressure coming off his shoulders with the admission. "It's something only you can help me with."

"Well, naturally. I'm probably overqualified for whatever it is you want, but you know, what are friends for?" The sudden burst of confidence catches Ron off guard even more than Drew proclamation of their friendship. Wondering where the stuttering man he's grown accustomed to has vanished, Ron briefly stares incredulously at the phone in his hand.

"I have – I'm having … uh,_ issues_ with Shego and I need your help." Ron splutters, cradling the receiver closer to his ear in rabid anticipation. If it's possible to hear the colour draining from somebody's face, Ron swears in that moment he hears it from Drew's end of the line.

"S-Shego?" Drew mutters, but it's mostly to himself. He sounds as unsure of her as Ron does. "Well, I will do my best. That woman is a mystery to me though."

Ron deflates, shoulders going limp. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Drew Lipsky, in his experience, is not so much a ladies man. "So the thing is, she keeps calling me for rides. Rides when it's late. Like, like rides when it's late and she is drunk." Ron says, not entirely articulately.

The line is silent for a time after that and Ron anxiously drums his fingers against the seat beside him. As he waits, Ron is sure that Drew's – and now that the man isn't trying to take over the world, he can admit this – brilliant mind is forming an insightful hypothesis.

"That's weird." Drew says wonderingly.

Or not.

"Well," Ron pauses, carefully rearranging his words to be less biting. "This has been – I'll see you around Drew."

Ron is already easing the receiver away from his ear when a frantic eruption through the speaker stalls the movement. "Wait, wait." Drew says hurriedly. "This – the issue you are having with Shego, that is – happens to be rather unprecedented, hence my loss of words." He continues, sounding the slightest bit put out at having been discarded so quickly as a resource of valuable insight.

"Sorry, sorry Doctor." Ron's mind is catlike in coming up with a way of placating Drew, the lure of figuring out whether Shego plans on eventually slaughtering him kicking it into action. "I've just been _really_ freaked out."

"As well you should be." Ron props himself up on one palm and strangles his phone with the other. If it weren't wireless, the thought of asphyxiating himself with the cord would have crossed his mind.

"Whu – why do you say that?" Ron squeaks, all of the bass having dropped out of his voice.

There's a chortle at the other end of the line, but Drew composes himself in short order. A reflex honed through years of working alongside a woman whose disposition was quick to spike toward murderous rage, no doubt.

"Calm yourself, Stoppable." Drew says, tone belonging to a parent. "You're not in any danger, no more than the rest of us at least, when it comes to Shego. This new development, shall we call it, simply means that in Shego's mind you have been upgraded from utter Buffoon to transportation." Drakken pauses, and from what he says next, Ron can imagine the man's pale blue lips curling in amusement. "I do so hope you have fun with that."

Ron blinks once, then twice, his eyes roaming around in their sockets and scanning the room for – for _something_. Whether it's an attempt to wake himself from a living nightmare, or shock that Shego isn't planning to murder him, he isn't sure. "Uh, thanks Doc." He says hollowly. Drew's sounds of delight at having been given a nickname fade away as he puts the phone down.

* * *

Shego calls again two days after Ron has spoken to Drew.

That she's calling isn't the thing that catches off guard. It's Thursday, the day she usually wants a ride home, so he's been half expecting her call all day. What does manage to catch him off guard is Shego's name flashing across his phone a little after 9pm. He's thrown off even further at the hollow nature of Shego's greeting.

"Stoppable. Usual place. Can you come and get me?"

She doesn't sound happy or angry or even like she's a part of the crowd that's so obviously behind her. The question bleeds through the speaker, stark and cold. It's unlike anything Ron's ever heard from her in month. He pulls on a pair of sneakers and says he's on his way.

He stabs the keys into the ignition and flies out of the driveway. One of the things he's come to learn about Shego is that she's a creature of habit. Each time Ron takes the winding road into Middleton and then the three lefts leading to the Neon Python, Shego is sitting in front of the same diner. Ordinarily, she doesn't say anything about it to him. She doesn't need to. He knows she'll be there, sitting on a bench and illuminated by flickering incandescent lights.

When he pulls up, there are no surprises from Shego's end. She's sitting in the same place as ever, eyes affixed to something on her phone. The crowds are endless motion, floating past her or trickling across the street. Shego stands out though, a strapless emerald dress and a mane of raven waves crashing onto her shoulders. While Shego's more a pinup than a villainess in recovery against this scene, the look of a displaced model does little to hide the pained look in her eyes.

That woeful expression pulls Ron from his car. It's a departure from their usual routine of exchanging text messages in a twenty-first century version of Marco Polo. Ron's not entirely sure what compels him to break with tradition. Maybe it's the same thing in the universe that's compelled Shego to call him when there are swarms of cabs clogging the street. He doesn't dwell on the though, he doesn't get a chance because -

"I see you're braving the atmosphere these days, Stoppable." With that greeting, Shego looks up at Ron through the spidery legs of her eyelashes. He just stares back at her, eyes huge. Ordinarily he'd be suffering from some sort of coronary episode by this point, but there's no menace in Shego's voice. There's nothing. There's a pitiful smirk splayed across her lips, but lacks her usual bravado and he thinks it might just be for show. Keeping up appearances and all that.

"Y-yeah, well." Pausing, Ron thinks better of antagonising Shego by mentioning why he's actually come over. "It's our tenth trip together, figured I would uh, step up my cab service, you know."

"Oh." The word slaps flatly against the air. Shego regards him wearily for a moment, but then pushes to her feet. "Well, it's about time." She adds haughtily. Ron welcomes the familiar swagger in her tone. It makes him less aware of how new this whole _peace_ thing between them is.

They wander back to Ron's car, neither brave enough to say anything. Ron's had enough experience where his stuttering and spitting machinegun jokes has scared girls away. Though he doubts he could even unnerve Shego, let alone frighten her away, he's content with companionable silence. Shego, he assumes is just happy that he's not pestering her. The reprieve lasts all the way until Ron's engine roars to life.

Naturally, he's the idiot to say something.

"Shego," Ron says, hesitation evident in the way that he's paused before Shego's sharp look finds him. Cringing, he meets her eyes and presses on. "It's pretty early, isn't it? Like uh, compared to when I usually pick you up, that is. I'm not - I promise that I'm not implying that you are losing your partying edge. I'm just curious, wondering really, why it is that you're ready to leave so soon?"

Shego's eyes narrow, she lifts a slender finger to her bottom lip and dabs at it thoughtfully. It isn't a hostile gesture or anything, so Ron just puts the car into gear and assumes Shego's picking through the semi-comprehensible word vomit he's just levelled upon her. He feels a little less sure of that when Shego's eyes wander to the sidewalk. Maybe she'll just ignore him after that outburst.

The traffic is thick this particular night, so by the time Shego clears her throat and makes to speak, it's been a full three minutes. They're they're yet to clear the first intersection.

"Why are you asking?" She asks, suddenly glancing away from the window and over the centre console at him.

"Just…I'm just curious, I guess." Ron answers, bristling with discomfort. He should have expected Shego to require a motive, but it's caught him off guard and he doesn't have an answer rehearsed.

"I wouldn't be." Shego mutters, tone like concrete.

"Maybe," Ron feels like it's a cop out, but he doesn't know what else to say. He also yanks his shoulders into a shrug that probably makes things worse.

In between making sure they don't get T-boned as he crosses the intersection, Ron catches Shego continuing to watch him. It's the slightest bit unnerving. "Why are you so nice to me, Stoppable?" She blurts out, turning the spotlight back to him.

He concentrates on the road, but a part of his mind wanders far enough to provide Shego with an answer. "We've known each other a long time, haven't we?"

Shego snorts in an ungraceful manner. "I've literally tried to blast you to pieces. You do remember that, right?"

He does.

"I'm still here though, right?" Ron counters, a faint smile at the edges of his lips. "I have – I don't think I even have any scars from your plasma, Shego. You've hit me before, but yeah…" He trails off, shoulders jumping again.

Shego's cheek twitches, a muscle jumping in annoyance at Ron's observation. "Yeah, well." Shego's eyes circle skyward and she inhales deeply. "Drakken and I - Drew and I were in the taking over the world business, not the business frying teenagers."

Ron gnaws at his bottom lip, pensive. Memories of Shego doing battle against Kim and himself come freely, but Ron can't quite recall her attempting to outright kill either of them. "I guess so…" He says, not quite comfortable with the realisation.

"And you're surprised!" Shego declares, jolting forwards and straining against her seatbelt. "Look Stoppable, wanting to destroy the world and wanting to take it over aren't necessarily the same thing. I know it seems strange to you hero types, but Drakken – Drew, whatever - amongst all of his craziness, he did _sort of_ have some good ideas."

Ron swallows. The fierce look in Shego's eyes at the mention of Drew strangles any thoughts he'd had of rebellion. They pass two intersections in silence and gradually Shego's muscles begin to unwind. Casting a final weary look in Ron's direction, she slouches into her seat once more. He's expecting another acerbic threat to leave Shego's mouth, but she merely sits in silence, content to watch the buildings fly past them for a while.

After a short time passes, Shego does speak again. It's with a tone he hadn't been expecting though, slightly cutting, but not entirely hostile.

"Look. Stoppable, now that you're aware that I'm not going to barbeque you, and I really can't believe I'm saying this," With agitation in her features, Shego grits her teeth and glares upwards for one reason or another. "But do you think maybe we could just hang out without you constantly freaking out?"

"Hang…out?" Ron asks blankly. Shego's expression twists into a rare combination of bemusement and irritation.

"Yeah, you know. The thing we're doing now." Shego says, turning over her hand and to inspect her fingernails.

"This is – we're hanging out?" Ron stutters, still waging war against the concept that Shego isn't simply using him for transport as Drew had assumed.

"Yes." Shego nods. The easy smirk that he's come to expect slides across her lips shortly afterwards.

"Oh, we're – okay. That's cool," Ron says, throat tight with anxiety.

Just when he thinks he's getting a handle on Shego using him as transport, the paradigm shifts again – _violently_. It's one thing to sit in somewhat companionable silence, occasionally peppered with small talk. To actually interact as friends, rather than acquaintances or 'colleagues' is another thing entirely. Hard edged as she is, Shego has always intrigued Ron; from the very first time he'd seen her mug shot. To have the chance to slip between her defences without being burnt is nerve-wracking. Desperately, he claws at every corner of his mind for something intelligent to say.

"So, you're leaving the club early this week, what's up? Sick of the club scene already?" At those comments, Shego's expression darkens.

Stupid, stupid.

There's a faint crackle, which Ron guesses to be Shego's knuckles. He's not entirely sure though, he'd been too cowardly to hold her gaze for longer than a few seconds at a time. Also there's the issue of the car he's currently operating. Resolutely, Ron focuses on the road and not the possibly murderous woman beside him. The apartment he's been dropping Shego at is coming up fast anyway, one final turn and a quarter mile after that. If he can just make it that far without –

"Yeah, something like that." Shego grits out, sounding dour.

Blinking once, then again, Ron cautiously flicks his gaze toward Shego. In the second or so she's in his sights, Ron doesn't spy a blaze in her hand, a clenched fist, or any other visible threat to his life, really. Naturally, self-preservation kicks in and he resolves not to say anything else before he drops her off.

Uh…

"It's only like 9. Do you want to maybe go and do something?" Part of Ron wishes he'd been born mute. Another much louder part of him is vicious in its curiosity.

From the corner of his eye Shego quirks an eyebrow. He notices that her faintly blurred visage isn't entirely outraged at the concept. "Maybe another time, Stoppable." She says briskly, though not unkindly. "Tonight was kind of lame. I'd be terrible company."

"You're okay though, right?" Ron blurts out. "I could go – there is an all night store down the road if you need ice cream and tissues?"

Shego laughs.

"Oh, so now that we're talking to each other, I've suddenly become a character from The Notebook? Crying and having feelings and excuse me while I vomit in your backseat."

"Well -"

"Thanks Stoppable, really. I'm fine." Shego says. "You're about to miss my building, by the way."

Ron whimpers and somehow screeches to a halt.

"Sorry!" He yelps, sliding into a park with a series of mysterious scorch marks around it. Shego just rolls her eyes.

"Well," Shego begins with an air of finality in her voice. "This has been interesting, to say the least." She continues, shaking her head with slight incredulity. "But I have got a bathtub, a flatscreen, and three kung fu movies calling my name."

Shego's pushing the door open and making her way to her feet when Ron pipes up. "Kung fu?"

"You couldn't handle me in a bath, kiddo." Shego smirks, deliberately looking him up and down before stepping away and shutting the door to Ron's car.

"That's not -" Ron begins his retort before realising Shego probably can't hear him. Scrambling, he unlatches his seatbelt, winds the window down and hangs out of the door frame. "That's not what I meant, Shego!" He calls after her retreating form.

She laughs, but doesn't slow down.

"And then she said 'you couldn't handle me in a bath, kiddo' she – a bath – Shego and I in a bath!"

When Ron says that, it deals a seriously mortal blow to the comfortable familiarity of being splayed across a couch beside Kim. There's a full minute – and it feels like an hour – where Kim just stares at him unblinkingly, as though she's wondering if he's completely and irrevocably insane.

Honestly, he's just waiting for Kim to drown him in reasons that associating with Shego is a bad idea. But then, like a light bulb has gone off somewhere in her head, Kim's eyes brighten. Her lips crease with a tentative smile, and then laughter washes the stifling tension away.

"Oh, Ron." She says, batting at his arm affectionately. It's the slightest bit emasculating and Ron feels like a misbehaving pet.

Casting a brief glance at his arm, the one Kim has just touched, Ron feels like he's been steamrolled. He'd been all set for a lecture of some kind, vitriolic words directed at Shego, maybe. He'd even half thought out a tantrum about how Kim and Drakken had once ditched him at bowling on his way here. Kim actual reaction though, the 'Oh, Ron.' and the laughter, has caught him wildly off guard.

"Ron, you know as well as I do," Kim pauses, winding her fingers together tensely. "Shego and Dra – Drew, Global Justice says that both of them are doing really well at their parole meetings."

Ron blinks, Kim sighs heavily. He hadn't realized that Shego and Drew were attending any sorts of rehabilitation programs. It makes sense though, Ron guesses. Saving the world once doesn't entirely erase a decade – give or take - of attempting to take it over. Gnawing at the inside of his lip, Ron wonders how many other things Global Justice exclusively tell Kim, rather than the both of them.

"So because Global Justice says it's okay, we can all be friends?" Ron mutters, more bitingly than he'd planned on.

Kim shrugs, but keeps looking at him, her expression somewhat forlorn. "All I'm saying is that I'm – I don't think this freaks me out as much as you think it does."

"Hey would you look at that KP, Pain King." Ron says, shoving the conversation in another direction.

Kim glances over at the television, but it's sluggish. Ron gets the impression that she's just doing it to placate him. They've fallen into sickly routine of levity one moment, a misstep the next, and fits of silence after that. The realisation makes him slightly uncomfortable, as do many of their interactions since _the break up_.

He looks over to Kim, her green eyes, bottomless without makeup and the soft arc of her jawline. She's beautiful without even trying, but he's always known that. Ron's clumsy without even moving, but she's always known that. And yet, when it had come down to it, he'd been the one to call time on their relationship. It hadn't been easy to admit that as a couple they hadn't really clicked. Kim had cried all day. He hadn't been much better.

Now there's a distance between them, even when they're side by side.

"Kim," Her name is uncannily heavy on his tongue. He doesn't often deviate from calling her KP. "Why are things so weird? Can we stop fighting – disagreeing, whatever? – I miss my best friend."

"I'm not fighting with you," Kim says, eyes widening. She looks sad for him, somehow. "I miss my best friend too."

"I'm sorry," Ron says, and though Kim is being so understanding, his throat feels tight. He can't quite stifle the faint urge to mourn what should have been, but probably never will be. "I shouldn't – I'll stop being weird now. We'll hang out more."

"You mean we'll do stuff aside from bowling with Drew?" Kim asks, a tentative smile bowing her lips.

Ron hums in agreement, though inwardly he feels guilty. This night – watching movies and eating pizza at Kim's dorm – it's the first time he's made a conscious effort to see her in weeks. She's been texting him off and on about doing something together since Drew had last badgered them into going bowling.

With Kim's admission that she's not fighting with him, Ron feels like the current silence between them isn't so heavy. It's more like they're just watching wrestling together, rather than convalescing after a break up. Ron feels more like he's breathing in oxygen, and less like he's attempting to inhale molasses.

* * *

**Well, that's the first part of my first effort at diving into Rongo. I do hope you guys liked it. Let me know if you did =)**


	2. Exorcising The Past

**Linebreaks denote a time jump, everything is written in the third person but from Ron's perspective. **

**Unbeta'd, so let me know if anything is wonky. Otherwise, read on and enjoy!**

* * *

"Oh yeah, the Ronster _Strikes_ again."

It's Friday night – well, closer to Saturday morning actually. Once again, Ron finds himself bowling with his bizarre gaggle of friends. As he returns to his seat, he's sure to ignore the withering glare that Shego is projecting in his direction. No doubt a consequence of his pun and her hatred of losing. Drew and Kim are slightly more tactful and Ron drops into his seat to the soundtrack of their half-hearted applause. Like last week, the score isn't even close. It's sort of putting a dampener on things, to be honest. A Drew leaves his seat to take – or mangle, rather – his next bowl, Ron chuckles. Kim and Shego are competent enough bowlers, while the formerly mad, currently irritated Doctor is fairly terrible. Two weeks ago when Ron had won, it had been a fluke. Last week he'd been dubbed an idiot savant. Idly, Ron wonders what Drew will come up with tonight. He wonders if they'll even bowl again next week. Maybe Drew will badger them all into going somewhere else.

A few moments later, Drew stomps back to his seat and Kim leaves hers. It's the perfect camouflage for Ron to launch a surreptitious glance in Shego's direction. The woman is hunched in her seat beside Drew, one leg slung over the other. She's fiercely filing her nails, eyes pointedly focused away from her companions. Ron wonders if she's trying to drown out the reality of losing at something to him. Based on his bumbling efforts during their missions, Ron supposes the whole thing is fairly embarrassing for her. Throwing a cursory glance toward the scoreboard, Ron notes that at least Shego isn't coming dead last. Her mood is somewhat foul now, trailing Kim and himself, but Ron shudders at the prospect of her losing to Drew as well.

"This is _so_ stupid." Shego mutters out of the blue. She lifts her arm and lobs a strike at the back of Drew's head. "I can't believe you dragged me out here, just to be slaughtered by Stoppable _again_."

Before he tames it, Drew's expression twitches between his usually impassive look and a glare. Slowly, he turns to Shego. "I didn't think we'd_ both_ be losing." Drew's tone is riddled with irritation as he rubs the sore point on the back of his head.

"Well, we are." Shego bites back. The fire in her eyes is accusing. A lock of black hair falls across her face, but she doesn't break from glaring at Drew to swipe it away.

The heavy silence stretches on after that. Ron watches it helplessly as Kim takes an inordinate amount of time to set up her throw. Sighing, Ron leans back into his seat and stares at the roof. All night and most of last, Shego's expression has been grim. Her eyebrows set tightly against her eyes. It's a look that Ron's seen before, but hasn't been quite able to place. Every muscle in her face is telling him something, but he can't read the language. It isn't an entirely foreign experience – being able to read Shego is something he's only beginning to learn. Over the past few weeks he finds that he's been able to read bits and pieces of Shego's expression – enough to get a basic feel for her mood. Right now though, he's got nothing. It's everything and nothing all at once. A bit like being asked to read Shakespeare before you've fully gotten the hang of Clifford The Big Red Dog.

Da-Ding.

The electronic blip denoting a strike crackles through the speakers and brings Ron out of his thoughts. He turns his head toward the lanes. Kim is striding back towards him; triumph carved in her every movement. From the corner of his eye, Ron catches Shego's expression. The frown on her face deepens almost unperceivably, but it's enough to carve out her own message. On the scoreboard above them, the gap between Kim's score and Shego's widens. Inside of Ron's head, a myriad of puzzle pieces fall into place. The look on Shego's face – bitter disappointment – he's seen it before, all masked up in irritation and twisted by anger. Immediately, Ron feels stupid for not having recognised it sooner. It's the same expression she'd worn after every defeat at the hands of Kim and himself. Though the scoreboard she's trailing on is inconsequential at best, Ron has no doubt that it's stirring up all manner of negative memories within Shego.

Brow furrowed, Ron turns his eyes over to Drew. The man's azure visage jostles another piece into place. Altruistic as the man has been acting lately, Ron knows things haven't always been that way. Ron knows this because a great deal of his adolescence was spent cutting Drew's schemes off at the heels. All of his and Kim's – mostly Kim's – glory had to come at somebody else's expense. Swallowing thickly, Ron remembers just who Drew and Shego are. They're the people on the other side of the coin. They're the people that survived on bitter defeat while Kim and himself fattened themselves on victory. After so many years spent starving, Ron imagines that it wasn't hard to coax Shego into bowling against Kim Possible. Even now, while respect from his peers has sated Drew, Ron imagines Shego is still ravenous for a victory of any kind against Kim Possible.

Another moment passes as Ron considers his next course of action. The prickle in the back of his throat warns Ron that Kim will react violently to what he's about to do. The twinge in his heart implores Ron to do his newest friend a kindness. Slowly, hesitantly, Ron shuffles in his seat and angles himself to face Drew. "Hey Doc,"

"Uh, yes?" Drew answers, amicable and utterly aware of the storm bearing down on him. The older man even looks the slightest bit pleased at having a nickname bestowed upon him. Ron feels his stomach roil with guilt. He feels like the helping hand coaxing a lamb to the slaughter.

"Would you say that in the past … you know, before your reformation … that Shego was your sidekick?" The words slither from Ron's lips, treacherous and beseeching Drew toward his doom. Kim's elbow digs into Ron's side, his ribs scream in protest. Shego's eyes sweep over the three of them, irritation bleeding into anger and then outrage. Ron winces, but forces himself to hold Drew's gaze.

"Naturally I would, but I don't see what possible -"

Drew's response cuts out violently and prematurely as Shego's knuckles collide with the back of his skull. Ron watches the scene play out exactly as he'd been expecting. His stomach churns unhappily; he feels nauseous at having engineered this scene. There's no going back now, though. In only a few seconds, Kim will fly out of her seat and -

"Ron, what the hell were you -" Kim makes it approximately one third into her lecture before her words are quickly steamrolled by a much louder, much angrier voice.

"Stoppable, are you just the biggest idiot in the world or something?" Shego absolutely just roars. Her eyes are blazing green, captivating and utterly terrifying. Though Ron has been counting down to this moment since etching out his plan, a bolt of fear shoots up his spine. For the briefest moment, his russet eyes flit to the exit behind Shego. There's chance he could slip past Shego and run toward its embrace. He'd be a coward if he did that, though. Clasping his clammy palms together, Ron forces himself to remain seated; forces himself to speak. The feeling of dread clawing at the back of his mind is palpable.

"Shego, so not -" Clearing his throat, Ron cuts himself off. A phrase associated with Kim might not be the best way to neutralise Shego's wrath. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be up for teaming up with me. You know, sidekick pride and all that. You can be team captain, I'll buy the snacks."

The murderous expression on Shego's face twists, ruptures. It flickers and then it's gone; dissipating into nothingness. An eyebrow perks, but it's the only discernable sign that she's heard anything. Abruptly, Shego drops back into her seat. She holds Ron's eyes for a moment more after that, but then her eyes drop to the silver bangle hanging from her wrist. She bats at the item of jewellery in an absent manner. Whether it's a forgotten relic of friendship past or a nervous habit, Ron isn't sure.

"Okay, yeah. I guess we're doing this then." Shego eventually murmurs, eyes returning to Ron. As she speaks, Shego's eyes don't roam the room as usual.

It's physically impossible, but Ron swears his flesh is searing under Shego's gaze. A long moment passes, but then a dull slap comes from Ron's left. Ron whips his head toward Kim. She's towering over him now – the sound must have been her palms slapping against the armrests of her chair. The idle thought perishes as Ron's eyes find Kim's face. Her brow is broken over the bridge of her nose; her lips have withered into a thin, unhappy line.

"So what, you guys are going to be, _team sidekick _or _team loser_?" Kim demands, uncharacteristic malice dripping from her lips. The temperature in the room plummets. Ron no longer fears his flesh burning.

Wounded, Ron just stares lifelessly at Kim. His best friend - the person he'd at one time expected to spend the rest of his life with. She's always known the ways to cut him the deepest, but this is the first time she's ever wielded the blade. Ron's heat - a swollen lump – settles at the bottom of his cavernous chest. He'd expected some form a backlash to his plan to team with Shego, but nothing like this. Whatever satisfaction Ron had felt before bleeds from his open wounds. He feels hollow and the next few minutes blur into nothingness.

Shego forces herself between Ron and Kim. Though she says something, the specifics get lost between her mouth and Ron's ears. He's too far gone – lost in a place where Kim has confirmed all of his greatest feelings of inadequacy. He wishes he'd never had the stupid idea to try and help Shego. Things would have been fine. She would have gotten through the night and so would he. All he's done is succeed in cutting himself to ribbons and provoking another fight between Kim and Shego. Between these thoughts, a blur of movement registers in front of Ron. He looks up with just enough time to see the righteous fury on Kim's face dull. He watches her hands go limp at her sides. Shego shakes her head and catches Kim's arm, dragging her away.

Ron remains behind, because really, what else is he good for these days?

* * *

"You okay Stoppable?"

The voice, although tinged with hesitance, slips into Ron's ears with ease. Dazedly, Ron looks up and to his left. Shego has dropped into the seat beside him at some point. She's angled herself to face him and her knees occasionally knock against his. The expression on her face is vaguely defined concern and Ron looks back down at the hands curled in his lap. In the past, on the rare times he's needed it, Kim was always the one to console him. That Shego is currently making an attempt at filling that role only serves to remind him of his misery. His chest tights, as if trapped in a vice. It's the same wrenching sensation he'd felt in the wake of his break up with Kim. Briefly, Ron considers whether it's ironic, poetic or just pathetic. In the end, he supposes it doesn't really matter. The past has already been written. He won't change the words by wading through the swirling memories and heady emotions attached to them. Flicking his eyes in Shego's direction, he notes the shadow of impatience beginning to darken her expression. During high school Ron trained himself to smile through these sorts of situation - the times when he'd been truly, truly miserable. With a false grin, he'd weave through Kim's questions and shrug off her concerns. From the scepticism already working its way onto Shego's expression; Ron doubts that tact will be successful with her. Just from piecing together fragments of her past, he feels certain of Shego's mastery in the art of misery.

Struggling, Ron produces something like laughter. He shakes his head and then speaks. "Not entirely, but you know … I hear time is great thing. Heals all wounds, I hear."

Shego clicks her tongue, visibly unimpressed. "Drew corralled The Princess. They're getting some snacks … reparations on her part. I may have badgered her into it. My treat. Whatever, I'm hungry too" She tries to sound as disinterested as ever. Ron finds that the effect is dulled by what she's saying and the weakness of her sneer.

Ron's eyes widen and breath indrawn, he nods dumbly. It had been one thing for Shego to drag Kim off – anything for a fight, he'd been able to say. That Shego has dragged Kim off and shrieked at the girl for his benefit? Ron doesn't know how to feel about that. It's not – he isn't upset by it. Not really. It's just another wrinkle to the woman that's rapidly taking up more of his headspace. Watching her from the corner of his eye, Ron wonders if her nonchalance is as effortless as he's always assumed. He leans back into his seat and a number of memories from the past few weeks flood the front of his mind. He's reminded of every hesitation and abandoned insult; every chink in the armour of what Shego once was. These realisations begin to pile up around him; Ron bites down harder on his inner lip. The dusty file inside of his head, long ago marked utterly terrifying, begins to feel less and less accurate.

Two people brushing past him breaks Ron from his reverie, startling him into consciousness. One of those people, the one sort of lingering in front of him, is obviously Kim. There's no point in ignoring her. Whatever she's going to say will just fest on her lips anyway. Ron straightens in his seat, russet eyes finding Kim's. A moment passes. The longer they stare at one another, the less Ron feels certain of his righteous anger. He wonders if he's just let his emotions get out of hands. Maybe Kim hadn't said anything at all and he's made himself a martyr for no good reason. Maybe … Ron is midway through tearing himself down when a tentative smile settles onto Kim's lips. That it doesn't quite reach her eyes is grim vindication. It's also scary to know an admission of guilt is about to pass Kim's lips.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Kim looks as uncomfortable as he feels. When she does speak, her words are clumsy. They shuffle through her lips, gangly and knocking into one another. "R-Ron. About before, there was … No, I – Ron, I'm sorry."

Swallowing the slab of apprehension that's settled in his throat, Ron forces himself to move. He peers sidelong at Shego. She's still occupying the seat to his left. Her black lips are creased into a lackadaisical smirk and she's watching him with detached amusement. Everything with Kim is so messy and screwed up – kind of his a hurricane has torn through their friendship – and all of a sudden Shego is just sitting there laughing it up? Ron turns his eyes back to Kim and he can't decide if he's happy or sad, whether he should feel relieved or anxious. Things seem to be setting themselves right – Kim isn't snarling insults at him and Shego could car less – yet Ron finds himself more lost than ever.

"It's fine." He eventually coughs up, even though it's anything but. The words feel leaden and wrong, but Ron knows they'll be true eventually. From in front of him, Kim lets out a long breath, but it mostly escapes Ron's attention. From the corner of his eye, there's a flicker of movement, a much softer exhale. Though she's done her best to smother the action, Ron is acutely aware of Shego relaxing. Her shoulders have loosened and Ron takes it as a sign that she really does care. It shouldn't matter, but it does. It shouldn't affect what Kim has said, but it does. All of a sudden, Ron feels more like himself – more like a person with friends. He feels the weight on his shoulders lessen and he sits upright.

"So, shall we bowl?" Drew pipes up, misinterpreting Ron's silence for tension. As the older man's eyes skitter around the room and he rambles on, Ron's mouth curves into a smile.

"Bowling … I could use a drink." It's the kind of thing Ron would expect to hear from Shego. "I'm taking the first shot." She adds, eyes shifting to Kim.

There's an invitation to war in Shego's words, but Kim remains still. One side of Shego's mouth lifts into a smirk, as she looks her rival over. Kim's hands have wound tight around the plastic tray she's clutching and her knuckles have bleached white. Sweeping a hand through his hair, Ron wonders what exactly had transpired between Kim and Shego while they'd been gone. As Shego gracefully makes her way out of her seat, Ron finds himself doubting the conversation had been limited to buying snacks.

From the aisle, Kim projects another smile in Ron's direction, but it's still weighted down with guilt. Ron feels his throat prickle with emotion. He's about to speak up when Kim drops into the seat opposite him.

"I got nachos." Kim says, proffering the tray of food between them. The back of Ron's throat prickles with emotion. He tries to ignore it. He wills himself to listen to the whisper of amusement he's feeling. The tray Kim is holding – he thinks she's brought at least one of everything on the menu. She's overcompensating and that means more than the food itself.

"I don't know if they're – well, I don't think they will be as good. Um. Bueno Nacho. I'll – we can go there sometime, eventually. My treat." Kim begins to babble, bringing Ron out of his mind.

There's something pleasant about how hard Kim is trying. Maybe it's that he isn't the one bumbling around for an apology, maybe it's that she really, truly _cares_. A shard of laughter splits Ron's lips and he doesn't think he's seen Kim look more relieved. He shakes his head, but surely his smile is a little truer when he looks at Kim again.

"Sure, KP." Ron belatedly answers, holding Kim's gaze. "We'll go next week before classes start or something." He adds reassuringly, yanking his shoulders into a shrug. Though Ron's certain everything will be fine, the words don't quite feel right as they scatter from his tongue. Deciding to ignore the nagging feeling, Ron plucks the box of fairly doubtful looking nachos from Kim's hand.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine because it's just got to be.

Ultimately, after everything that has transpired, the game itself – Shego versus Kim Possible – is not really fit the final act of a storied rivalry. Unlike the past, there are no grand explosions. No monolithic structures are brought to their knees. The world isn't even in the balance, just the collective pride of two women.

That's not to say the game is_ just_ a game. Ron knows this because Drew likens it to a war of attrition and Ron is hard pressed to disagree. Though the man is a genius in the laboratory, he's remedial is almost every other facet of life. If he's picking up on the ongoing hostilities between Kim and Shego, then the tension must be palpable. Repositioning himself in his seat, Ron ignores Drew's latest monologue and peers up at the scoreboard. They're only a handful of sets from the end. Shego and himself are ahead, but perilously so. A late surge by Kim could completely unravel his plan. All of the pain he's visited upon himself and the other, all for nothing.

"You know Kimmie, your arm is looking awfully muscular. I'm not sure that college boys are really into the whole She-Hulk thing." Shego's sneer carries very well on the stale air of the alley. Ron's eyes dart away from the scoreboard and over to his teammate. He winces like Shego's jibe were a body blow. The woman is only a step or two away from Kim, easily within the range of a looping punch.

"Yeah, and I'm _sure_ the boys are falling all over themselves for a shot at Kermit." Kim hisses back, whipping her head in Shego's direction. Ron cringes at the way Kim has invoked the green Muppet's name. He knows for a fact that Shego hates the comparison.

Of course, Kim and Shego have been trading barbs since this new game – the one with them on opposing teams – has been going. The longer the game continues, the more Ron thinks Drew might be right about it being a war. Though both Kim and Shego have remained on the frontlines – or _lanes_ in this case – Ron is under no illusions as to whom is commanding whom. Rarely returning to their seats, both women have spent the game alternately barking orders at Ron and Drew or sneering at one another. Ron can't help but picture them draped in the uniforms of opposing four-star generals. In war times like these, Ron can't help but think himself an idiot. He'd been hoping to play a part in Shego taking her redemption – inglorious as it might be, compared to Kim's original triumphs. All he's succeeded at is tempting fate and severing a very tentative peace treaty between Shego and Kim.

"Stoppable, you're up." Shego yells across the room.

Coming out of his thoughts, Ron lurches upright. It won't do him any good to drag his feels. He takes his ball from the receptacle and trudges forward. He glances at Kim first. She breaks from her glaring match with Shego for just long enough to meet Ron's gaze with a smile. He forces one in return and then glances sidelong at Shego. Her hands are planted on her hips and she looks even more severe than usual. There's desperation in her eyes. Inconsequential as a bowling match might seem, Shego needs this. She_ needs_ it. Ron finds it difficult to swallow as he flicks his eyes forward. The pins at the end of the lane have never looked further away.

He'll do his best though. Shego and himself will win. They'll win.

They have to.

* * *

_**Hey guys! **_

_**Sorry this has taken a while. I had originally been planning on updating at least once a week, but things got a little crazy at work. On the bright side, I'll have another chapter up in the next few days. It was originally content for this chapter, then the chapter would be something like 10,000 words, which might be a bit long for some of you.**_

_**Also, hopefully this came off how I wanted it to. From my point of view, Kim was fine with the idea Ron and Shego interacting. What set her off is actually seeing them on good terms and then having Ron 'choose' Shego.**_

_**Anyway, with that longwinded A/N out of the way, please let me know what you thought – I read and appreciate every review/follow/favourite (Even if you're commenting on a mistake you've seen lol)  
**_

_**=)**_


	3. This Could Be Anywhere In The World

Mercifully, the game ends a little past eleven O'clock.

Drew's final bowl teeters on the edge of the lane before swaying drunkenly and tipping into the gutter. It's another disappointing throw in the game full of them for Drew. Ron look away from the end of the lane and over to Kim. Her face is blank, eyes wandering between the scoreboard and Shego. It's a rare defeat in a lifetime of glittering victories for Kim. Ron wonders if she's attempting to twist her face into something like that of a gracious loser. She'll be fine though; one lost bowling game won't even register next week. Nodding to himself, Ron looks away from the wreckage of Kim's momentarily shattered ego. He turns his eyes toward the woman he's partnered with in a victory for sidekicks, henchmen and henchwoman everywhere.

Though she's won, Shego's expression is remarkably similar to Kim's. Her lips are a thin and emotionless line. Her eyes are flittering between the scoreboard and all of the pins Drew has failed to topple. A beat passes, but then Shego's synapses begin to fire; an explosion followed by realization.

_Team Shego - 505_

_Team Kim - 478_

This day – though probably envisioned with more grandeur – has been a long time coming for Shego. Now that it's here, she doesn't even try to hold back. A primal scream of triumph, aged well through years of failure, tears past Shego's lips. It seems dramatic – it's only bowling, but even so Ron can empathise. After an entire high school career riddled with girls turning him down, he'd felt like exploding when Kim had said yes to a date with him.

Ron's still considering the thought when Shego barrels toward him, arms outstretched. She throws her arms around his neck and Ron feels his ribs crackle against her body. It's painful, seriously painful, but seeing Shego in casual clothes, expression delighted – he can't bring himself to pry her off.

Face flushed, Shego eventually lets go. Her good mood doesn't quite vanish though. Several times, Shego's palms batter Ron's shoulders amid her happy babbling. It doesn't hurt – not as much as her hugs – but Ron still has difficulty reconciling this Shego with the stern woman he's know for years. It's not that a little happiness looks bad on her green features. It's just that seeing Shego bounce on her heels with giddiness is incredibly surreal. Ron's been able to chip away at Shego's defences enough for the woman to crack a smile in the past, but this – _this_ is foreign territory. Wonderingly, Ron shifts his eyes from Shego's face to her neck. There isn't any sign of a modulator as he'd suspected, but –

"Stoppable, my eyes are up here."

"Yeah, I know. I was just …" Ron's tongue is unreliable as ever and he finds himself looking incredibly guilty as a result. Faint lines of amusement work themselves into Shego's expression as Ron tries to recover. "You remember the modulator, right? I just thought that-"

"You thought that because I'm happy, my emotions were being manipulated?" Shego cuts in, eyebrows swooping low with signs of dangerous irritation. Ron swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. She hadn't been compromised, she'd been _happy_.

Straightening his back and scuppering together all of his leftover mission courage, Ron launches into an apology. "Shego I'm really sorry, but I've never seen you look like that. You were – I thought you were being manipulated and I swear I wasn't checking you out either. Well, I was … sort of. But I was only checking you out to make sure there wasn't anything resembling a modulator attached to your neck." Like a levy has broken, the words flood from Ron.

Shego blinks at his sudden outburst, eyebrows perking in bemusement. The resulting crease in the middle of her forehead is _way_ too cute for a woman that has spend a good portion of her life trying to take over the world.

"I'm just – please don't kill me, but I just wanted to make sure you were really, genuinely happy and not – well, I don't mean to point fingers, but Drew has been a sore loser in the past. He might have … well, he probably didn't do anything, but I just wanted to be sure. I just wanted to be sure you were actually happy. 'Cause you know, you deserve it … and uh, stuff." Ron twists his hands, frets and finishes lamely.

At first, Shego just looks pole-axed. Her black hair is framing her face in waves; her fringe is hanging over her left eye. Ron's heart hammers against his ribs uncomfortably, manic at the possibility of having angered a woman infinitely more powerful than himself. He's beginning to feel slightly dizzy when a smile suddenly flits to Shego's blackened lips. It's as brilliant as it if brief. Shego quickly stifles the happiness on her face, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. The image of her happiness – her happiness because of something_ he's_ done – is burned into Ron's mind. He knows he's grinning like a fool or a lunatic, because Shego rolls her eyes at him.

"Chill, Stoppable. I'm just happy. It's been known to happen, you know." She announces, folding her arms across her abdomen. The statement is acerbic as ever, but Ron – like a loon – just grins through it.

The gears in Ron's head are just beginning to crank with a retort when a hand latches onto his arm. He feels himself reeling backwards, he feels himself being tugged away from Shego. As he's careening backwards, Ron realises just how close he'd been standing to Shego. The whole time they'd been talking - the whole time he'd been bumbling through his words and blushing like a fool - Shego had been mere inches away from him. That she hadn't moved away feels significant, but Ron doesn't really have a chance to process everything before –

"Ron, do you think I could get a ride home?"

With a jolt, Ron freezes up. A clawing sensation at the back of his throat tells him exactly whom the voice belongs to. Until now, Kim had remained silent. She'd allowed him to bumble and blush and hug Shego. But now, well, Ron isn't really sure what will happen next.

"Yeah, of course KP." Ron says, turning to her slowly and cautiously. The cheery note he forces into his voice sounds off key and out of place. Mercifully, Kim doesn't show any outward signs of noticing though. She's too busy glaring at him and Shego and everything in the room. Her eyes are – her emerald eyes are blazing like Ron hasn't seen in years. Swallowing nervously, he continues. "I was just talking to Shego, is there any rush to -"

"Oh. Uh, Stoppable … I kind of have to get going." Shego cuts in, clapping Ron on the shoulder to bring his attention back to her. Her hand lingers for a short moment before lifting off again. Standing before him, Shego makes a big show of her nonchalance. A part of Ron – the part that's seen way too many cartoons – actually expects her to start whistling.

A low growl emanates from Kim and Ron wonders if she's recently suffered a blow to the head. He tilts his gaze in Kim's direction and briefly contemplates reminding her that they have in fact broken up. Before Kim and himself had dated, their dynamic had been so easy. There'd been no reformed villainesses and bouts of Amazonian jealousy. Ron presses his hand to his temple and rubs it. It feels like somebody has let off one of the Tweebs experiments inside of his head.

Ron is finally summoning a reply that he's fairly sure won't agitate either girl when another hand drops down on his shoulder. It doesn't linger because it settles. Ron's heart feels bruised and swollen as it settles in his throat.

"See Ron, we're all leaving." The airiness in Kim's voice fools nobody. The shard of possessiveness she tries to hide is stark and obvious within her tone. The apple in Ron's throat bobbles nervously. He can't help but feel like a steak in the midst of lions – or lionesses in this case.

"Yeah. So Stoppable…" Shego pauses, her light pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. She regards Ron firstly, but then her gaze settles on Kim and her expression turns to stone. "Actually, you know what? I'm just going to leave. I'll see you guys later."

The wave Shego gives them both is clunky – the word robotic comes to mind. Ron's brow furrows, but he suppresses the urge to say anything further to Shego. He suspects that their dynamic, though improving, is still fragile. Shego seems to clear the room in single stride, catching Drew's arm from where he'd been cowering. As Ron watches Shego wrestle the protesting man outside, he feels the grip on his shoulder tighten.

"Uh, KP. You're going to break the skin." Ron murmurs, looking down at his shoulder. The nails digging into him retract also instantaneously. He turns to the girl beside him and her eyes are wide with surprise.

"Oh god, I'm_ so_ sorry Ron!" Kim squeaks. Ron's eyes widen and he's tempted to take a step backwards. That voice – the one Kim's just used to apologised to him in – it's way too valley girl and way too little Kim.

"It's fine." Ron mumbles, less enthusiastically than he'd meant to. His eyes drift back to the door. A car races past, maybe it's Shego and Drew, maybe not.

With a slight incline of his head, Ron takes the unfamiliar role of leading Kim outside. Thankfully her hand doesn't find its way back to his shoulder as they leave. This whole night – well, the night since he'd had the genius idea to team up with Shego – has been awkweird. A small, but vocal part of Ron wants to ask Kim about why she'd freaked out a little bit over it. But another part of him - the part that remembers icing down aching muscles and tending to open wounds, knows the answer. Ron knows all too well that Kim hasn't quite forgotten all of the bruises and all of the burns she's felt at Shego's hands. He knows this because although he'd like to think he's forgiven her, Ron hasn't forgotten either. It's not that he's expecting a flaming orb of green flame to strike him down, it's just … every time he looks down in the morning he sees _it_. Every time he looks down at his chest, a line of molten skin stares back at him – Shego's handy work from several years ago stares back at him.

Silent, Ron and Kim trudge toward his car. It's a fairly modern Ford that his parents had given him for graduation. When they reach his car, Ron unlocks it without much fanfare and clambers into the driver's seat. Kim lingers to the side of where he'd been, arms wrapped around herself. It's all very bizarre, the way she's waiting there. Peering up at her through the window, Ron wonders if he is supposed to do something. He's winding the window down, a question perched on his lips, when Kim lurches into action. She crosses in front of his car, a shadow darting toward the passenger's seat. Ron watches as Kim opens the door, looming at its threshold for a brief and very odd moment. Her face – the one Ron's been able to read since first grade – is a closed book as she slides inside. Ron busies himself jabbing his key into the ignition and needlessly checking the position of his rear vision mirror. There's a dull click as Kim fastens her seatbelt and a sigh – mostly of relief – passes through Ron's lips. At least he can start driving now. It's not that he's afraid of looking at Kim; it's just that he doesn't know if he wants to make a second attempt at reading her emotions.

"Ron?" His name is a question as it comes off Kim's lips. It's small and hesitant, like whatever thought she'd had at the side of his car has grown roots and become something bigger. "Do you – is something happening between Shego and you?"

The question knocks the wind out Ron. His throat struggles to complete a dry swallow. There isn't any malice in Kim's voice and he doesn't feel as though he's on trial. It's just a question, nothing more and nothing less. He recalls a few nights ago. _We're not fighting_, she'd said. Glancing over at Kim, he's sure that they'd been at odds earlier in the night, but this – her current line of questioning – isn't a fight.

"I promise you, we're just friends, KP. You'll be the first to know if anything changes." Ron says, slowly and carefully.

Kim holds his gaze for a long moment, scrutinising him. It's a long, long silence. Eventually, much to Ron's relief, Kim drops back into her seat, curiosity apparently satisfied. Hands shaking the slightest bit, Ron cranks his car into gear and pulls out of the lot. There are a great many things Ron wants to say – things relating to Shego. Right now though, with the wounds of the night still ripped open, he doesn't think it's the right time. At one time he'd been certain that his future would lay with Kim – two and a half kids, a white picket fence, the whole nine yards. As it is now, Ron can't bring himself to settle on or disregard any one possibility for his future. Though he's not actively pursuing Shego, he'd be lying to Kim if he ruled it out entirely.

"Okay, Ron." Kim mumbles into her lap. Coming out of his thoughts, Ron briefly turns his eyes away from the road. His gaze only lingers on Kim for a second, but it's enough. Even as Ron stares at the median line of the road, her expression is burnt into his field of vision. Her emotions in the bowling alley had been about as legible as Arabic to Ron, but right now, he feels like he's got something of a grasp on what Kim is feeling.

"The thing with Shego and I is … I'm not like - I'm not planning on turning all Zorpox-y." The name tastes bitter on Ron's tongue and he pauses briefly. "Trust me. I'm just – I guess I can empathise with Shego, you know? The Attitudinator might have influenced me, but Shego is still going through some of the same things I did after being … uh, evil. She's trying, I'm pretty sure she's trying really hard to be good, but everyone is still looking at her like she's some psycho. I just … I know that it sort of blows."

Kim sits beside him in silence after that. She's silent all the way up until they roll to a stop at a red light. Ron turns his eyes to her. The shadows are long on Kim's face, making her look a little bit otherworldly. Coupled with her silence, Ron can't help but feel unnerved. His eyes flick back to the traffic lights on the other side of the intersection. They're about two blocks from Kim's house. Impatient and riddled with anxiety, Ron's thumb taps the steering wheel. He wills the light to turn green. Anything to escape this prison.

When the light finally does flash its signal for him to go, Ron stomps down on the accelerator with more force than is strictly necessary. Kim, surely enough, doesn't say a word.

"Ron, you know I love you." Kim says after an eternity. Her tone is scratchy and slightly condescending, much like a parent scolding its child. "But be careful, okay? Shego is … I know she's trying, but I still think she's bad news."

Ron fights the urge to roll his eyes. "Duly noted, KP. This is what I was _just _talking about, but I'll be on my guard." He can't quite resist the urge to slip that little barb into his retort.

Kim just stares at him, lips parted in shock. She's still gaping at him when the Possible home flashes into sight. Ron pulls up into the driveway without any incident. He's been doing it since he'd first learnt to drive. Tonight he can't help but feel a little sad at remembering that fact. Everything – his relationships with everyone around him, his place of education, his entire life – is shifting around him.

"I'll see you around Ron." Kim says, leaning to unbuckle her seatbelt. Her lips work themselves into a smile, but it's a hollow one. It doesn't reach her eyes and Ron winces.

As he watches Kim get out of his car, Ron mumbles his own farewell.

Kim backs off, watching Ron through the window as she ambles backwards. She takes one step, two steps and then slowly turns around. Ron's heart gives a slow, painful lurch. Every time he thinks that he's done mourning the smouldering corpse of his relationship with Kim, something like this reminds him that everything is different. They hadn't clicked as lovers - that had been obvious. Fully aware of these things, Ron isn't foolish enough to try taking back their break up. He doesn't want Kim to love him that way anymore, he'd settle for understanding and the love of a sister. Moments like this make him question everything though. They remind him of every time where Kim either hasn't heard him or can't bring herself to agree. Anything is possible for a Possible, except for compromise, Ron supposes. Raking his hands through his hair, Ron watches as Kim reaches into her handbag for her keys.

He sits there, numb, even as Kim shuts the door behind herself. It's the jarring electronic noise coming from his pocket that finally brings Ron back to reality. Shuffling in his seat, Ron pushes his hand into his pocket. The cell phone his parents have given him for college is fairly massive, but eventually he wrestles the clunky object free.

A message from Shego is blinking back at him.

'_Sorry 4 jetting. Kimmie was freaking me out. You're a pretty good bowling partner, Stoppable. Lets ditch the other two next time we hang though._

* * *

**And there it is - the conclusion to the least violent battle in Kim Possible history, plus some more stuff between Ron and Shego and Kim. What did you all think?**

**I've got a few ideas for the future of this fic, things should be picking up in terms of criminals and things soon. The relationships between Ron/Shego/Kim/Drew will still be the dominant feature, but some blood will be shed.**

**While I'm rattling on, I'd like to send extra massive shout outs to Razzle Jazzle and cybercorpsesnake for reading and reviewing both chapters so far. BartWLewis, KinZero and The Night Hunter, you guys are new to the party and hope you all stick around! Guests and followers ... you guys rule too =) Keep on commenting guys, it's the lifeblood of this story and I appreciate every word. This is unbeta'd so if you spot a specific error, call me on it so I can get rid of it haha. **


	4. Let Me In

College, shockingly enough, is easy.

The school's campus is a tangled web of walkways and buildings of various sizes. Ron doesn't find himself getting lost all that often – at least, not as often as the other people in his dormitory. He swears that two thirds of his conversations with them have revolved around the horrors of traversing the campus of the campus. These people, they aren't jocks or fools, so Ron is fairly baffled by their troubles. In the moments following these conversations, Ron wonders if years of winding through Drew's thrown together lairs have honed his sense of direction.

Aside from that though, Ron finds that focusing on one subject – the culinary arts – has allowed him to actually progress in class. He's never found learning hard, to be honest. If Ron is honest with himself, a textbook oddly specific to Middleton High might actually have his picture beside the phrase 'needs to apply himself'. He's heard the phrase enough times for it to permanently bounce around inside of his head at the very least. It isn't that he particularly enjoys getting mediocre grades. But even after hours of lectures from various school faculty and Possible family members, Ron had never really seen the wisdom in cramming his head full of useless numbers and scraps of history. Maybe that's why – at least during this early stage – Ron finds himself near the top of his classes at college. It's so much easier to excel in a field he is passionate about.

By the time Thursday evening rolls around, Ron's first week of classes has come to a fairly anticlimactic end. He's even finished the meager amount of work his more eager instructors have given him. Out of habit, Ron finds himself lying on his bed, staring at the roof. The Fearless Ferret plays on his little television, crackling and droning in the background. His mind slowly ticks away and Ron can barely hear it over the gears grinding in the back of his head. For most of his life, Ron's been a doer and not a thinker. It's weird, but ever since Kim and himself have closed up the website, Ron's found himself alone with his thoughts more often. He wonders if he's always been a reflective person robbed of the time to actually ponder things. It's the first in a long thread of thoughts that drift listlessly through Ron's head.

The guy next door – Johnny or Jimmy – wanders past, muttering low in his throat about something. Most of the words are obscure, but there is a scattered reference to having a damned Friday class. Ron grins to himself. He's managed to avoid the dreaded Friday morning double block collectively feared by the student body. For the rest of the semester at least, he'll have the luxury of a three-day weekend. The gap in his schedule has tossed something else into his lap as well. Middleton is only around a forty-five minute drive from his dorm, the Neon Python a little bit less.

Ron's hand hovers above his cell phone. It's resting beside him on the bed as it has been for most of the week. His fingers have danced around it since Tuesday. Thursday is – it's the night he's Shego's personal chauffeur. He's been meaning to tell Shego that he's still available for days now, but things are even weirder than usual, if that's possible. Since the victory Shego and himself shared against Kim and Drew, he hasn't really talked to any of them. Kim is insanely busy with her induction program at Global Justice. Drew is busy with something similar – he'd mentioned taking a research position. Shego though, Shego is different. Ron had exchanged a few texts with her the next day, but since then it's been radio silence. It's not that Ron has shut the book on befriending or helping or bumbling around Shego. He just really isn't sure on how to proceed. With Kim, if he wanted to strike up a conversation with her, he could just send her a silly message. With Shego, Ron really isn't sure how that would play out. Stern, sarcastic, acerbic – these are all words to describe Shego. Somehow, Ron can't imagine that she has either the time or patience for superfluous conversations.

A few moments later, just when Ron thinks he's convinced himself to text Shego, his phone goes off like a grenade beneath his fingers. It's his message tone, Ron is sure of it. Even muffled by his hand, it's unmistakable. A strangled yelp claws it's way up Ron's throat and he harshly yanks the phone up to where he can see it.

'_Hope your first week went well =)' _

It's not Shego. It's a message from Kim.

Since the natural disaster also known as bowling with Drew, Ron and Kim have sort of been tiptoeing around one another. Ron isn't beyond admitting that Kim's wells of bravery run much deeper than his own. That she's messaging him now only drives that point home. Ron knows things have been totally awkward between the two of them and he's often wondered if it's insecurity on Kim's part. A lingering infection stemming from the way Shego had plagued Kim and himself during their adolescence. Kim had taken most of the physical damage, trading blows and more often than not, verbal barbs with Shego. Ron knows that the resulting wounds run deep. He knows this because when Kim and himself had met up on his last night in Middleton, he'd accidentally mentioned Shego's name precisely once. Concrete would be less tangible than the tension which had followed. Kim's trying though, really doing her best to shove those feelings toward Shego down, Ron realizes.

He texts her back.

Tossing his eyes toward the alarm clock to his left, Ron gives his phone a frustrated squeeze. Despite how things are between them, Kim's managed to pick up the phone and send him a message. It should be easy for him to message Shego. She's still fairly distant, but it isn't as though their relations are presently strained. As she has many times in the past, Kim has inadvertently managed to make Ron acutely aware of his failings. In the past, it had been his recklessness or his ungainly movements. Right now, it's his damned hesitance.

Ron sighs dramatically, his chest deflating. He has the Yamanouchi to thank for this. During the chasm – he says chasm, because summer seems like too small of a word – between high school ending and college life beginning, Ron had spent three weeks in Japan. He'd spent the better part of that time sharpening his awareness of the things around him. Sensei had demurely lectured him at length about being aware of your environment and more importantly, being aware of the people surrounding you. In the end, the forty-five minute speech had amounted to something along the lines of 'know your enemy, know your friend'. In spite of the fact that he'd rarely exerted so much as the effort required to stand, those twenty-one days had been three of the most exhausting weeks of Ron's life. Sensei had sat beside him, delicately explaining the intricacies of reading body language and expressions. He'd challenged Ron to do the same thing.

As a result of that training, Ron has found every day situations mutating into disconcerting amalgamations of emotions and consequence. Now, more than ever, he's aware of how much gravitas words can carry. Burdened with awareness, Ron finds himself struggling to even send a damned text message. Ever since the fiasco at the bowling alley – and what a miscalculation that had been – he feels more on edge than ever. Anything he does, no matter how minor, could be potentially disastrous, particularly as it relates to Kim and Shego. Relations between the two women have always been akin to warring nations, but at least in the past Ron had known his loyalties lay in Kim's camp. In the present, he feels like a man without a country, marooned on the border between Kim and Shego. Given the tensions, Ron can't help his paranoia. He feels like the text he wants to send – a simple enquiry of whether Shego will need a ride home tonight – could be the whisper of madness either of his friends need to engage in open warfare again.

This same scene plays out in wretched slow motion for the next fifty-three minutes. Ron lies on his bed, agonizing over whether to text Shego or not. Intermittently this is interrupted by Ron's phone beeping with Kim's replies. This loop carries on until there is a creak at Ron's window.

Ron sits bolt upright in an instant, his eyes wide like plates. Spending your adolescence at odds with the most dangerous people in the world has a way of sharpening your nerves. Using his bed to push himself upright, Ron jostles his limbs into a fighting stance. He scans the endless black outside of his window until he finds familiar emerald eyes. Ron holds them, recognition slowly bleeding into his -

"Stoppable, open the damn window." Shego barks, jabbing her slender finger at the ancient lock holding Ron's window shut.

Stunned, Ron just stares out at Shego, jaw hanging loose. A glint of white – Shego's teeth – brings him back to reality like a jab to the throat. Her teeth are grinding together with violent impatience and terrified, Ron flies from his bed. He crosses the room in three long strides, grinning a little bit stupidly. As his shock ebbs away, Ron begins to feel excitement at Shego's presence. If he thinks about all of the history that's passed between Kim and Shego and himself, that excitement begins to churn with guilt and confusion. There had been a time – a recent time – when Shego looming outside of his window would have conjured dread and not anticipation. The way things have shifted so much makes Ron uncomfortable. He blows a deep breath and busies his jittery hands with unlatching the lock on his window.

A few seconds later, Shego is inside.

The wind outside has blown Shego's mane of raven hair into the worst state Ron's ever seen it. Quite a feat considering the scraps he's seen Kim and her get into. He purses his lips and just tries not to laugh. Shego's eyes are grazing over the room, so she's likely oblivious to his battle. That observation isn't as comforting as Ron would have hoped. His accommodations are Spartan. His bed dominates the room and he'd only put up his Fearless Ferret poster yesterday. Thanks to strict campus bylaws, it's the closest he'll get to bringing Rufus inside these walls. Although the little guy had understood, Ron's throat tightens at the memory.

"So … not that you aren't welcome here, but um. What are – what brings you here?" After Ron asks her that, Shego watches him for a moment. Time passes slowly under her gaze and Ron feels like a stranger in his own room. Though she isn't really doing anything, Shego's still got a way of setting him on edge.

Shego's eyes shift to Ron. "Oh, you know. This and that." She drawls in a voice that is frustratingly casual. Ron feels his heart colliding with his ribcage in an agitated way and wishes he could be so composed.

Shego moves around the small room and Ron follows her with his eyes. He's not entirely sure what Shego is doing, but he's seen her do it once before. They'd been at Drew's new house before a Global Justice dinner. Ron had been roped into being their ride and had dismissed it as Shego just being sort of snoopy. Now he's not so sure.

Moving across the room, Shego stops in front of the mirror Ron's affixed to his closet. There's more silence. Shego stares at herself, or more specifically the state of her hair, in the mirror. A look of muted horror struggles onto Shego's face before she suppresses it with extreme prejudice. For some reason, that is even funnier to Ron than the way she's wrestling with her hair. Beginning to unwind, Ron looks, actually _looks _at Shego.

She isn't wearing a shimmering ball gown or anything conventionally flashy, but regardless, Ron feels his heartbeat quicken at Shego's outfit. Her thin shoulders are wrapped in a letterman jacket from some high school Ron doesn't quite recognize. He wonders if it had been Shego's school back in Go City. Peering over Shego's shoulder and into the mirror, Ron recognizes the reversed insignia of his college stretched across her chest. The shirt Shego's wearing is several sizes too small and the neckline has been shredded by something – either scissors or maybe her old clawed gloves. It all leads Ron's foggy mind to the conclusion that Shego may have raided the laundry hamper of a very petite girl somewhere on campus before turning up at his window. It's late now – really late. Unless Shego's been skulking around campus all day, there's no way she bought it from the school store.

"Hey Stoppable, do you need a napkin?" Shego asks, eyeing Ron through the mirror and ceasing the battle against her hair for long enough to make fun of him.

Vainly dabbing at his mouth for any sign of the drool Shego's implying, Ron ignores the way Shego's shirt has ridden up, exposing a sliver of her toned stomach. With his cheeks blazing crimson, Ron screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. There isn't really anything he can say to Shego at this point. In fact, Shego's mild reaction to his gaze slithering all over her is some sort of a minor miracle. She could have volleyed a ball of plasma in his direction, but she's merely cracked a joke at his expense. It pulls Ron back to the time Drew had told him that Shego might be on the verge of considering him an actual friend. He feels insanely lucky, but equally as confused in relation to her sudden arrival.

"Um that was – Shego, I'm sorry." Ron eventually manages, bleeding charm and charisma all over the place. Shego shrugs impassively, continuing to fix her hair. "Anyway, with that unpleasantness out of the way … you look very nice and you're in my room?"

Shego turns from the mirror and lowers her gaze, watching Ron through her long eyelashes. Her irises are like smoldering green embers. "Oh, so you like the college look on me?"

Ron fights with a dry swallow as Shego bites down on her bottom lip and cocks her hip. He really has no idea how to respond to that. With his arms limp and his tongue lolling feebly in the bottom of his mouth, Ron feels helpless in a way that's difficult to articulate. He's felt weak before, but this is something else entirely. These kinds of interactions have always been difficult for Ron, but that fact that Shego of all people is involved is –

Shego laughs. "Oh man, you are _too _easy." She laughs again and this time she doubles over, bending faintly at the waist. She actually – and Ron hadn't known this was a thing real people do – clutches her sides as she cackles at him.

Ron blinks back at her. Shego is sort of just smirking at him now. She's mostly managed to tame her hair by this point, having pulled it away from her face. Without a scowl dominating her features, Ron admits to himself that Shego is almost inhumanly pretty. Her cheekbones are high and her jawline has a delicate slant. Ron furrows his brows at the woman in front of him. He's told Shego he'll be her friend, not another mindless zombie relentlessly hitting on her.

"So, aside from tormenting me, shall we do something else tonight? I think there is a club that doesn't really check IDs on the other side of town. We could uh, if you want to, we could check that out?" Ron tentatively prompts.

Amused, Shego eyes Ron's jittery form. "Kind of over the club scene." Shego replies, a little more fiercely than Ron had been expecting. "So mostly I'm just here for the Buffoon tormenting amenities."

Shego does a good job of camouflaging her sudden irritation by teasing Ron. Leaning tentatively against his window frame, Ron isn't really sure what to do next. He'd kind of just assumed Shego would want to go out and lose him in a crowded room. He knows they're tentatively stowing away each other's frenemy labels and replacing them with ones of friendship, but this, _this _is weird. He looks at Shego and she just looks back at him. He's half expecting her to say something or charge him, but Shego hasn't been acting entirely like herself for weeks. She stays where she is, half leaning against his desk.

"S-Shego … I'm not – um. Not to labor the point – a-and not that I don't believe you about the whole thievery aspect of your visit – but did you really drive forty-five minutes just to torment me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Stoppable. It was only fifteen by hovercraft." Shego retorts, eyeballs circling in their sockets. The dull, flat tone in her voice is reassuringly familiar. Ron finds himself laughing with relief as the nervous tension in his shoulders unwinds slightly.

"So um." Ron fumbles for something to say and Shego sighs.

Shego props herself up on his desk. Some of his notes rustle in protest. "Come on, Stoppable. I'm trying here. Aside from the horrible awkwardness, bowling with you was okay. Better than being hit on by weirdoes, losers and creeps in a shitty club, at least."

"Oh." Ron murmurs, mostly to himself. He half expects Shego say something else, to invalidate what she's said by lashing out against him. She just gives a slow blink and inclines her head for Ron to continue. Rather than confidently outline his plan for the evening on the fly, Ron just blurts out what he's really thinking. "I – uh. Honestly, I'm kind of lost. What do you want to do?"

"Yeeeah, the thing is, I'm more of a doer and a complainer, than a planner." Shego admits, leaning against the wall and regarding him with a lazy smirk perched on her lips. The absence of the sneer he's come to expect from Shego still catches him off guard every time it's missing.

"Well, um." Ron leans against the window behind him and attempts to focus all of the pent up anxiety sparking around inside of him. His stomach emits a low rumble and it's the spark of inspiration he'd needed. "Have you had dinner?"

Shego briefly furrows her brow before answering with a small amount of embarrassment. "I had a pop tart a couple of hours ago."

Ron's eyes widen. He pushes himself off the ledge and upright, suddenly feeling like he has a foothold in the conversation. Facing Shego, he begins to babble excitedly. "Oh man, now that is_ definitely_ where we are going to start. What do you feel like, Shego? I'm not sure … I mean, since we're friends, this is kind of embarrassing, but what is your favorite kind of food?"

Ron's jittering finally slows down and he looks at Shego expectantly. She's sitting upright now, eyes betraying the smallest amount of shock at Ron's explosion. Shego folds her arms and they fall across her chest like slabs of concrete. Ron swallows. Her posture is suddenly defensive.

"Does it really matter?" She asks, glaring a little bit.

"Well," Ron swallows hesitantly. He's really unsure of what he's done to put Shego on guard and it's churned up all of the apprehension inside of him. "There are like, dozens of late night places within walking distance – like mostly on the same street. If you have a preference, maybe I know of somewhere good. We can uh, plan the rest of the night there."

"Oh." Shego's sudden anger deflates. She takes a deep breath and readjusts herself amid angry crumpling from Ron's notes.

Ron broadcasts a tentative smile across the room. Shego shifts her gaze to something else, looking more lost than anything. Ron tries to follow her line of vision. She doesn't appear to be looking at anything in particular. She doesn't say anything, so Ron finds his mind beginning to wander. He watches the woman in front of him. Until now, he thought Shego was a fairly uncomplicated person. He'd thought that over the years, he'd sketched out a fairly accurate picture of who she was. But now, in the wake of her openly hostile reaction to a fairly innocuous question, he feels less certain. All of the events and circumstances that have come together to form Shego – he only really knows the main ones and the ones he's found himself caught up in. Pensive, Ron realizes that he doesn't even know whether the name Shego is an alias, nickname or something eccentric Shego's parents had come up with for their only daughter.

"I guess I could go for something spicy." Shego eventually says, having returned to the easy tone of before. "Not, I repeat, _not _that abomination of a Mexican place you are thinking of."

Unabashed, Ron grins at her. Shego rolls her eyes again, but her eyes have lost their hardened glint. "Well, since the fine cuisine is out," He says, finally stumbling across his sense of humor. "There are a few places I know of. There is an Indian restaurant, Raj's Temple, but I'm not sure that is a great idea. Their curry is – I think it sent one of the sophomores from upstairs to hospital -"

"Spare me the details." Shego winces, raising her palms between herself and Ron.

"How about Guerrero's Last Stand?" Ron enquires. Shego makes a face and her eyes narrow with vaguely defined suspicion. Nevertheless, she lifts one hand again and motions for Ron to continue. "It's Mexican, but real Mexican food. The owner – Eddie, I think it was – Is actually a trained Lucha Libre from Tijuana."

"Huh. Okay." Shego answers distractedly. She glances down at her hand and inspects her nail polish. Ron's eyebrows twitch together. He'd been expecting something slightly more enthused. "Yeah, lets do that." She nods, inclining her head toward the door.

The hallway is silent mostly, aside from a lone exchange student – Mark or Mike, something like that - from Malaysia. Shego actually bares her teeth at the undersized freshman and he scurries off in the other direction. Ron follows Mark's retreating form with a frown. Shego just laughs with pride and continues walking. Ron ambles along beside her, unwilling to scold a woman capable of rendering him to ashes. The front door to the dormitory comes up surprisingly quick. Ron flings himself ahead of Shego with enough time to run his ID card through the sensor. Chivalrous in a way he's rarely managed in the past, Ron leans against the door and holds it open. Shego perks an eyebrow, but remains otherwise impassive as she marches past.

As he steps outside, Ron shoves his hands into his pockets at pulls his jacket closer to his body. It's a lot colder than it had been after class. It is just past 10 O'clock though, so he shouldn't really be surprised that the air is so crisp. From the corner of his eye, Ron catches Shego swing her head from left to right, scanning the street. She looks a little smaller, and a little less sure of herself than usual. Still, under the moonlight, she looks pale and beautiful. Every fiber of Ron's being tells him to move, but he just finds himself staring. He finds himself staring until Shego's eyes lock with his and her eyebrows swoop down dangerously.

"I'm not planning an ambush or something, if that's what you're thinking." Shego snits, blowing a stray lock of hair away from her face.

"I was uh…" Ron feels suddenly and palpably grateful that the moonlight has washed most of the color out of his skin. His blush probably isn't apparent. "So, you're wearing a Colorado University shirt. Tell me about that as we walk." He blurts out, tongue stumbling amid his scattershot delivery.

Before his brain has the chance to scream no, Ron places his hand on the small of Shego's back and bustles her forward. They take approximately three steps forward before the gears inside of Ron's head slowly crank into action. That Shego hasn't singed any part of him feels incredibly significant to Ron. He's just barreled in and touched her spine, yet he's still standing. It's sort of amazing to be -

"You going to chauffeur me the entire way, Stoppable?" Shego asks, looking over her shoulder at him. Her hair is still more unruly than usual, spilling over her eyes and her tone isn't quite as gruff as Ron is used to.

"I um …" Ron coughs up, dropping his arm back to his side.

"Buffoon, Stoppable – Ron …" Shego's tone isn't mean, but rather a little bit lost. She gnaws at her bottom lip and her eyes flit down to the hand that was just on her back. It takes her a moment, but she presses on. "If we're going to pal around or whatever, you really need to calm down."

Shego says it so matter-of-factly that Ron's jaw just swings loose. He stops and stares open mouthed, at her. Shego slows to a halt a few steps in front of him. She emits a soft sigh of frustration, looks over her shoulder at Ron and then finally turns to face him. The expression on her face is open and raw, so unlike Shego. In that moment, she looks so young that Ron finds himself flying backward in time. He's standing in Pre-K, there's a redhead in front of him and she's been segregated from the rest of the class for the color of her hair. The memory flickers and then burns away. Kim's face – mostly the expression of isolation and uncertainty – bleeds into Shego's.

He remembers the terror of cooties from Pre-K. It had taken him all day to work up the nerve to say a thing to Kim. It reminds him of how nervous he'd been in the lead up to talking to Shego for the first time – every time, actually. Cooties don't really compare to Shego's comet powers, but Ron feels himself becoming more and more aware of the parallels. It's a physical thing too. The realization is a tangible slap, cracking against his face.

"You're right, I'm – you know how hard old habits are to break." He isn't sure why, but Ron feels suddenly aggravated – disappointed, mostly - at his own failings in dealing with Shego. In response to his ungainly movements, Shego's mouth curls into a smirk. "How about we start off fresh?" Ron asks abruptly, proffering his hand to Shego with a jerky movement. Her smirk fades.

"I'm not introducing myself to you." Shego says, blinking down at the hand hovering between them. Shego's scowling, but Ron wonders if perhaps, it isn't as venomous as she'd intended. Maybe that's why Ron waves his hand around for emphasis, able to ignore the roiling sense of danger churning in his stomach.

"Shego."

Just when Ron's about to lose his nerve, Shego extends her hand and wraps her fingers around Ron's hand. Her eyebrows are resting low against her emerald eyes. Irritation is plain to see in her features, but she hasn't blasted him across the road. For once – this little scrap of time – things are easy. He's just Ron and Shego's just his friend. They could be anybody in the world right now.

"Oh hey there, Shego." Ron chirps, coasting along on the moment. "I'm Ron Stoppable. My, aren't you a bundle of joy?" He asks, bending at the waist to regard her more carefully.

Shego's eyelids squeeze shut before she turns away from him. Muttering, she marches off into the night. Blinking and then grinning, Ron sets off after her. Things won't be this simple for long. Ron's acutely aware that the chaos in his life will soon swallow up this peaceful moment. He'll just enjoy this respite while it lasts.

* * *

**This is a little bit late now, sorry! I honestly struggled a bit with this chapter. There are a lot of things being set into motion by it and I've tried to explain a few things that might have been too vague/ooc in the first three chapters. **

**As always, I love the feedback – thank you so much everybody! Keep on letting me know what you're enjoying and what you're not. This is unbeta'd again, so if you pick up on anything, please comment on it and I'll fix it up. **


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